


Father's Day

by your_dragon_just_shot_at_me



Category: TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 00:13:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17436176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_dragon_just_shot_at_me/pseuds/your_dragon_just_shot_at_me
Summary: As children, the turtles learn of Father's Day for the first time and decide to celebrate their father. Raph struggles with himself and what he can offer his father.





	Father's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Elements from the 2012 series were taken but it was left rather ambiguous and could apply to a few of the series.

Brow furrowed, Splinter worried as he wandered about the alley picking up papers. Wind scattered a newspaper as he’d dug around in the dumpster and his conscience couldn’t leave the mess. It would serve to help start fires during the chilly nights. Voices traveled down the alley from the street. Hidden in the shadows of the dumpster he waited for the pedestrians to move along, praying there was no reason for them to enter the alley, all the while hoping his four small sons were in their home and not wandering the sewers. No amount of meditation erased that worry. But they needed food.

Stillness returned to the night, the street empty again. He bundled together what food he’d found and the newspaper and stole away into the sewers. He’d made sure to stay close to home, their current section of sewer they called home, sloshing in the sewer water for only a few minutes before turning off and finding their maintenance shaft. His tail flicked at the yellow caution tape as he ducked under. He turned off the corridor to a service shaft for the nearby offline subway. The door, rusted and worn, opened louder than he liked.

“Father!” the four small turtles chorused before realizing their gaffe and murmuring a quick, “Sensei.”

Donatello immediately returned to the tangles of wires strewn about the floor, another lamp disassembled nearby. Michelangelo lay among the electrical components, scraps of paper covered in doodles. Leonardo and Raphael each rubbed at their arms, sparring or a scuffle had been interrupted by his arrival. He let out a heavy sigh, grimacing at the mess. For another time.

“Dinner, my sons.” Unfurling the blanket, remnants of restaurant leftovers piled into a deformed takeout container. Far from appetizing but it would suffice. “Tomorrow we will make a trip. Rest tonight.” He notably left all the food for his sons, preferring to meditate.

Mikey jumped at the food, pried away by Raphael before he could gobble it down. “Share!”

Leo brought their plates, pushing between his quarreling brothers, shoving plates in their hands. “Can we, please, eat without another fight?”

Raphael took his share, retreating to a bare spot, “We could if you would stop ordering me around.”

“You tackled Mikey.”

“Mikey shouldn’t have taken my comic without asking! He can’t even read them!”

“Can you?” Leo retorted.

“I like the pictures. Chris Bradford can take on anyone!”

“Of course, you only care about the stupid comic at the end!”

Donnie tapped his screwdriver on the edge of the lamp. “Why isn’t it working?” Tap tap tap.

“Donnie?” Raph asked.

“Light bulb was good. All the connections are made…”

“Donnie?” Raph tossed a screw at his brother. “Donnie!”

“Raph, he doesn’t hear you.”

“That’s why I yelled.” Raph explained, even if it sounded like shouting.

Mikey crawled along the floor, scattering parts as he inched along, plate scraping the floor and grating on Raph’s ears. “Dinner, Don.” He rolled around, pulling his own plate two him with his toes. Leo wretched as Mikey dug in, shoveling the noodles in fast with one hand and scattering newspaper around with the other. Donnie, still rapping on the side of the lamp, stuck his other hand in the noodles, frowning at his sauce covered hand.

Bright colors from sale ads popped out at Mikey. Streamers and balloons decorated some, “Looks like a party.” Mikey studied them before shoving one at Donatello, “Don, Don! Read it to me! What does it say?”

Donnie separated the paper in his face from the lamp and it’s parts, “Mikey...ah.” Holding the papers back he read, “Father’s Day sale. It’s just an ad for a store selling watches, Mike.”

Mikey took the ad back, balloons dancing around in his head. “What’s Father’s Day?”

Donatello had returned his hand to the noodles, searching for the fork without taking his eyes from the forsaken lamp. “I would presume a day to celebrate fathers.”

Delight took hold of Mikey, “What? When? When is it?”

Donatello glanced at the flier then at their small calendar hanging on the wall, free from a local real estate agent, “Sunday.”

Wasting no time, Mikey pushed aside his plate, ignoring the need wash it, and began drawing on another piece of paper.

“What are you doing?” Leo asked.

“Making dad something.” His tongue jutted out as he concentrated on his drawing, “Maybe a family picture. Or a comic! Oh...oh I’m making dad a comic about our family!”

Leonardo, finished with his noodles, sat with Mikey. “That’s...actually a good idea.”

 --

 

Drool plastered one of the sketches to Mikey's face the next morning, not that it deterred him from continuing his artistic endeavors. The only positive thing to come from his constant chattering about his gift was that it did encourage the others to work on gifts for Splinter. Donatello insisted on accompanying his father on the long journey to the city dump, spurring a surprisingly animated chorus of agreements from the others, certainly more joyous than was usual. Normally a trip to the dump was a treat that ended in constant complaining. Toothy smiles, unnaturally wide for his sons, followed during the entire journey.

Then he was abandoned just as quickly as they'd agreed to help him when they were at home. Each son skirted off in a different direction, Donatello the only one with a list of supplies they needed to find for their home. Splinter heaved his sack, scanning piles of rubbish for new linens and housewares, praying Donatello would return with parts for their stove and not more electronics to dismantle everywhere in the common area.

He thumped his tail on the packed earth, one of the several junk yard dogs joining him as he walked the darkened paths and avoided any brightly lit piles.

\--

Raph had dug through a couple piles of garbage, willing inspiration for a gift. He knew Michelangelo would be searching frantically for more paper and paints or markers or something similar. Donnie would easily find something to build. Something useful, their father loved having useful things. He could still remember how Splinter had wrapped Donnie in a hug after he'd fixed that radio they'd found. He could listen to stories, news and even music while he tended to their small home. Those were things he couldn't compete with.

Leo. Perfect Leo. He was sure to find the best gift. Nothing he'd find would even compare.

Raph slumped into the pile, enthusiasm draining away.

\--

Donatello dragged his bag, brimming with metal, along the dirt until he found Leo and Mikey.

“Little help?”

Mikey frowned in the box he held, not wanting to damage his finds. Leo stole a glance over his shoulder, “I can take those in mine.”

Raphael took Don's bag, emptying the contents into his own box, leading the way to the sewer entrance they used, seeing Splinter's patience was starting to wane with his sons. Raph stewed as his brothers hung back several paces and discussed their plans in fervent whispers.

\--

Nothing was coming to Raph. Any free time his brothers had around their training and foraging for food was spent on gifts. Mikey wound up chastised several times a day as he was covered in a different medium each time. Paint, pencils and pens. They may have been worn down to nubs or barely worked but he found a way, probably with Donnie's help, and wound up covered in it as he made countless pieces.

Donnie hid in an annex off their common room, working on endless projects. There was truly no telling which one would be for their father.

Leo, unlike his brothers, focused on meditating with Sensei. If he was making something it was either when they were all asleep or finished and he'd hid it well. Raph punched their spare, bound up mattress, their makeshift punching bag, over and over. Hit after hit not lessening his anger but increasing it. Father's day was in the morning and they'd all agreed to wake Splinter with their gifts all ready. He'd had all week and absolutely nothing to show for it.

He shivered in their dank section of sewer. In the depths of summer he was used to being a little chilled. Donnie said they were insulated in the sewer. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he was still cold. He headed to bed, his brother's slept soundly beside him on their shared mattress, Mikey's snoring not helping him fall asleep. Sitting up he scanned their home.

Donatello had fixed the stove, providing them warm meals again. Father had found blankets on their last trip, less threadbare and given it to his sons. It was scratchy and old, still smelled like the junk yard, but warmer while he slept with an older blanket that barely covered his feet.

He collapsed back onto his pillow, pounding on his head and waking Leo in the process.

“What's wrong?” He rubbed the sleep away.

“Nothing.” Raph turned over, knowing he'd have to pretend to sleep to get Leo off his case.

If Leo backed off. “Did you make a gift for father?” An angry rumble answered him. “Seriously? You had all week!”

“Like you'd understand.” Raph mumbled to his pillow.

“What are you going to find or make in the middle of the night?” Leo laughed. Raph landed a punch into Leo's plastron before he actually left the bed, pacing the room. “Ow, come on. Just get some sleep. We can figure it out in the morning.”

“Yea, saving poor Raph who can't do anything.”  
“I didn't say that.”

“What's goin' on?” Mikey's groggy voice came from the pillow.

“Raph's,” Leo watched Raph's shadow disappear near the door. “Raph?” Leo bolted up, throwing the blanket off when he heard the door squeal open and closed.

Shivering, Mikey felt for the warm spots where his brother's should have been then rolled closer to Donnie, stirring him as well. “Mike? What're you doing?” He threw Michelangelo's hand from his chest.

“Raph and Leo are fighting again. I wanna sleep.”

“It's the middle of the night.” Donnie sat up, the room still. “Where are they?”

“Raph left.” Mikey wrapped more blanket around him. “Leo followed.”

\--

Raph splashed in the water, kicking it every few steps. “Stop following me.”

Leo chased, though he tried to avoid the water and making so much noise. “You're going to get noticed. Where are you even going.”

“Finding dad a gift!” The first ladder he found Raph climbed. He'd never had to push the manhole cover off and he nearly lost his footing. Leo called out as loudly as he dared, expecting to be ignored. Raph continued up. They hadn't gone far from home, Raph had probably gone up into an alley since there was no traffic sounds overhead. Leo bit down and climbed after Raph.

“I don't need your help!” Raph shouted, the echo so different on the surface. He was on the surface. Without father. He looked up into the sky, the sliver he could see, through the fire escapes.

Leo poked his head from the manhole, scanning the alley for anything, anyone. “Get back here, you're going to be seen!”

\--

Donatello hesitated. Telling father would get everyone in trouble and Leo could certainly talk some sense into Raph before he'd do anything irrational. Or not. Not with the amount of time they had been gone already.

“Father?” Donatello gingerly prodded Splinter.

“Yes, my son? Is everything alright?” Sleep still called to him but his son's worried face tore him from his warm bed.

“Raph is missing.” Donnie pointed to the door.

“Missing?” Splinter's cane not far from him, he pulled himself up and set off out of their home. “Stay here. I will return.” That tone meant they were all in trouble. Extra training for sure.

Wide awake, Mikey rolled in the blanket, making himself into a burrito. “Where are you going, Donnie?”

“Getting the medical kit. Someone's coming back injured for sure.” Mikey giggled, enjoying the blanket and it's warmth.

  
\--

Bang! Something landed on the metal garbage cans at the doorway near the end of the alley, making them both jump. Leo peered from the manhole, his eyes adjusting to the moonlight. Raph froze, sensing movement. Multiple things moving. Cautiously, Leo pulled himself up out of the manhole. A cat pranced by, pausing to meow at them. Both let out a breath they'd been holding.

“Dumb cat.” Raph hissed at it. He headed further into the alley but had no clear idea of what he was going to do. There were dumpsters and some cans, the fire escapes led up to the roofs. And potential people to see him. He also realized he was without his cloak, or any clothes they used on the surface. He'd just run.

Tags jingled on the cat's neck as it passed Leo. He tried grabbing the cat only for it to hiss and scamper away. Raph trotted after it, scooping it gently in his arms. He'd never held a cat before. They'd pet the dogs at the junk yard once their father had befriended them. “It's ok, kitty. I don't like it when he tries to grab me either.”

“Someone's going to come looking for it. It has a home.” Leo clinked the tags together hoping it didn't take a swipe at him. “And we have to go home before dad wakes up.”

Raph ignored his brother and headed for the fire escape.

“You're not taking my spot! Punk ass kid! This is my alley!” A can flew toward his head from behind the dumpster. “Get out!” Dirt caked on the man made him blend well into the surrounding wall. Until he hurled the can. “Huh, some costume kid.” Another can flew at Raph, “And don't even think of taking my cans! Those are my cans!”

“Right.” Raph started up the fire escape, savoring the small cat curling up on his arm. Another barrage of cans flying into the wall under him and Leo sending his own apologies. Making it safely to the fire escape ladder he climbed with Raph. “Why're you still following me, mini-Splinter?”

“Because, it's not safe. We need to go home, Raph.” Leo gulped at the sight of how far they'd climbed.

Cat wriggling in his arms, Raph let him down. He leaned into a step, watching the cat climb higher to an open window. “Thundercat!” Squeals of delight rang from the open window before it shut and they were alone again.

Leo saw Raph's shoulders fall. Neither was in view of a window, at least not easily but, “Well, you brought it home. Let's go.”

“I don't have anything for dad yet.”

“Raph, we shouldn't be here. What's gonna happen if someone that wasn't that crazy man down there sees us?”

“You don't get it!” Raph slid down the handrails, crashing into his brother. “I have nothing to offer dad.”

Nothing. Leo smirked, he had nothing he could say to stop his brother. They started back down the fire escape. “It's stupid anyways. Dad wouldn't want anything I'd give him.”

“Father loves all of us.” Leo choked, “Come on. He...”

Bottles and cans started raining down into the alley from the roof over shouts of joy from a group of kids. They aimed for the dumpster where the homeless man sat huddled in the dark corner. His anger boiled over after each crackle of glass or ding of a can. Profanity after profanity until one can hit him and his anger turned to pain. All the while the kids laughing, daring the other to throw another one.

Leo placed himself next to Raph, his teeth grinding. Neither saw their father come out of the manhole.

\--

Splinter snapped his hood over his head. It wouldn't cover his entire face but enough in the dim light. Aluminum cans littered the ground among shards of glass. Among the tinkling of glass as another bottle broke he heard the gleeful kids above. And the moans of pain. It hurt to ignore someone in need but the rattling ladder made him dive into the shadow of the dumpster.

“Raph, let’s go!”

“I’m not leaving! Those kids think it’s ok to...to….arg!” He lashed out at the garbage cans, creating more of a mess. Rotten food rolled around. Leo’s gaze bounced back and forth between the roofs and the manhole, trying to decide what he should do. He had trouble overpowering Raph during training, or fist fights. With his rage he wasn’t sure he could stop him. He had to stop him. Well, he should stop him. He blinked and Raph’s arms were full of food as he jogged up the fire escape.

“Raph, no. Wait.” Splinter laid a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“I will go after him. You head home. Now.” Hood obscuring his eyes, Leo knew better than to argue.

“Yes, Father. Sorry.” Leo sighed. His father dashed up the fire escape after Raph, faster than he’d seen his father move. “Don’t be too hard on him.” Leo’s soft voice called out enough to make Splinter hesitate. Leo didn’t see his father stop below Raph and watch his son. In the shadows, the homeless man huddled in the corner realizing that the boys he’d seen were not a hallucination or the alcohol in his system, but actual turtles.

The kids seemed to be back to taunting one another, a new bag of ammo ready. They were pushing each other around, seeing who could make the first shot when Raph took aim of his own. Before the first can was picked up a rotten tomato smacked into the cheek of a boy. Juice and mold clinging to his skin, making him heave from the stench. “What the hell?”

“You think it’s funny?” Raph tossed a salad’s worth of vegetables on the boys, more ripe with age than the first tomato, he had to concentrate not to vomit himself.

Splinter knew he should stop Raphael. He was close enough to the roof that if the children looked over they would easily see him. The food kept them back from the edge for the time being.

“How do you like it?” Raph jumped in triumph as he heard their curses at him.

One boy braved coming toward the edge, “Trash throwing trash?” Raph found some rancid noodles and hurled them up. “Aah!” Covered in the noodles, the smell overpowering him, he vomited over the edge of the roof and directly onto Raph.

“AH!” Ducking back, Raph hit his shell hard into the building and wiped away the vomit. But he was proud. He could hear them retreating to their parents. As their footfalls died away, Raphael rushed the roof. His father waited, breath caught in his throat. His son, alone, rummaged around the roof, first throwing out profanities. Giving him a wide berth Splinter ascended to the point he could see the roof. His son busy cleaning the trash left by the children. Albeit complaining while he did. “You'd think they were the ones to live in a sewer.” Empty beer bottles lined the ledge. The next fodder they never got to use.

A large garbage bag sat at his feet. Glass landed with a clink. Another. And another. He wasn't about to clean the entire roof but this was helping him settle...everything. His mind felt clearer. Dragging the garbage bag up he stepped onto the ledge again until the brick under him slid out. Training kicked in and he caught himself. “At least they weren't throwing these.” Raph batted the next brick which fell away. The gap in bricks was stuffed with a wadded up blanket. After a few tugs he unfolded the parcel. Few trinkets lay inside. Pictures of a family. A happy little girl, and even happier small boy. The mom and dad each sweetly holding the children. One picture they were at a beach. He had no idea if it was a beach here in New York or farther away. He wished he could place it. Another there was a lot of grass. Not Central Park. The kids aged a little in the pictures. A bear was wrapped with the pictures, guarding them. They were old, weathered a bit, just like the bear. The wool blanket was just as old and scratchy. And warm. Heat blossomed from his shoulder where the blanket was draped.

Ripping open the garbage bag again he searched for a clean bottle. Rolling the pictures neatly he dropped them in the bottle. “You keep these safe. Guess that's what you were supposed to be doing anyways, eh?” He liked the bear. Bears were strong, after all. And it could have used a good home now but it still had a job to do. “I'll come check on you though.” The bear, nestled back in the hole, held the bottle tight as he replaced the bricks. “And you, you're perfect for dad.” Wrapping the blanket over his other shoulder, Raphael hefted the garbage bag and stepped onto the fire escape.

\--

Splinter was down the escape as he heard his son claim the blanket. He could only guess what could possibly make his headstrong son start to tear. Raphael's strength, and quick temper, tended to lead to confrontations and his need to step in. He knew this was not the time to scold his son. Dodging the can and bottle remains Splinter took up the blind spot on unoccupied side of the dumpster. The lid swung open and closed again. His son groaned as more cans and glass scraped against the ground.

\--

“You...you ain't in a costume.” The man huddled further into the corner. His bottle of vodka involuntarily shook as he glanced between it and the giant turtle pondering if he'd finally drank too much.

Raph had heard his father field these questions at the city dump before. He didn't think he could keep his temper in check again and said, “Why didn't you move. Those punk ass kids were trying to hit you.”

Tatters of cloth swathed around his legs flipped open. One of the man's legs ended at the knee. The moonlight afforded him just enough light to see the outline of a crutch in the shadows. “Army.”

Raph returned to clearing away the last of the bottle shards, silently. The man stared at him as he cleaned, pushing the bottle further and further, sure he was hallucinating.

The blanket itched his neck. It was no good. He pulled it off and covered the man. “Guess I'll have to come check on you too.”

The man rubbed the blanket between his fingers, savoring the thickness and warmth despite the warmth of the summer evening. “I...I have...I don't have anything.” Raph waved away his offers, though guilt wrenched him for giving up his gift so quickly. The man was rummaging, looking for anything. A small wrapped candy, the wrapper smeared with dirt, pressed into Raph's hand. “Thank you.”

Biting back the sting of more tears, Raph nodded and stood to go. His father stood between him and the manhole. “Dad, I...”

With no malice, none of the condemnation of a parent knowing his son had gone against so many of his rules or wishes, Splinter opened his arms, “Come my son, let's go home.” His own tears falling as Raphael joined him.

 --

 

He'd followed his father down the manhole, even replacing the cover. After enveloping his son in a hug he'd started the trek home in silence. Raphael tried to explain. He splashed after his father pleading him to listen. “Dad. Dad please. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have gone up.” No response. “It was reckless and I could have been spotted – er well I was but-but he's not going to say anything. Just like those guys at the dump. Dad, please.”

“I saw enough.” He slowed. Tail whipped water away pensively.

“Dad. All-all I wanted was to get you a gift.” Raphael's fists clenched, flexing the fingers after a minute. His father wouldn't even face him. He'd never seen him shed a tear.

“A gift? For what?”

“F-father's day.” Raph closed his fingers around the small candy. “It's stupid. It was Mikey's idea. He saw it in the newspaper you brought home. Stupid.” Turning, he wound his arm back to throw the gift he'd received. “I got nothing to offer.”

“Nothing?” He lightly grasped his son's arm. His arm turned limp after his son's. “You gave me the greatest gift tonight.” Raphael allowed the candy to roll out of his hand, dropping into his father's. “Every parent fears they have failed their children. You showed me I have not. There is no greater gift.” More tears fell. Dripping down Raph's head and some leaking from his own eyes.

 

\--

Mikey hopped around jostling sheets of paper. His brother and father had been gone long enough that he was completely awake, parading around forcing Donnie and Leo to prepare. Donatello insisted on preparing the medical kit over Mikey's preparations, though he was persuaded to help when Leo arrived home again.

As the door opened Splinter and Raph were greeted with an eruption of noise, “Happy Father's Day!”

Pancakes, or Mikey's equivalent, stacked on the largest plate he could find with Leo, Donnie and Mikey and various gifts at their feet. Thrusting the plate at Leo, Mikey dove to his father and pulled him and Raph in to show off everything they had done. His own heart full, Splinter pulled Raphael closer into a hug and shared the late night snack with his sons.

Mouth full of pancakes, Mikey fell next to his father showing off the comic he'd drawn of their adventures. The comic focused on their travels around the city for supplies and needing to find a new home after people found their last home. Donatello had finished the lamp, not just an ordinary lamp. He'd found a UV bulb that would allow them to grow some plants down in the sewers. Leo, in his junior fashion, had found a tea kettle and cup set. Matching. Chipped. But still perfect.

After their late night snack, all four of the turtles finally in bed and sleeping comfortably, Splinter took the small candy from his pocket. A small photo sat framed next to his mattress, an instant photo taken with a camera Donatello had found with a few pictures left on the cartridge. Sitting against the frame he stared at the token and his sons until he drifted back to sleep.

 

 

 


End file.
